Sex, Violence and Crochet

Now that I have your attention, this is a post with two stories. 

Yesterday I was trying to teach my ten year old granddaughter, Julia, to crochet. You should really know how to do whatever it is you're trying to teach someone else. I basically muddle my way through a ball of yarn and end up with a scarf. These are diet scarves. If I keep my hands busy, then I won't be holding food. 

Julia has about four rows of her scarf begun. And being that I'm a crappy teacher, her rows are wonkie. I finished my scarf. It was too wide, to short and also wonkie. So I un-crocheted it into a nice ball. Julia was appalled that I was taking the whole thing apart.

I told her that part of the pleasure was in the doing of the thing, and redoing if it wasn't right.

In the wee hours of the morning I had a memory that connects to this. 

When I was 27 I took an evening sculpture class from Sergio DeGiusti, who is one of Detroit's best sculptors.  We were using terra-cotta clay and had nude models. By the end of the first class I had a lovely little female figure. That's when Sergio told us to put our creations back in the plastic bags. What? Just squish them up? Most of the class was appalled. But, but, THREE hours were spent on this sculpture. 

Sergio told us that these sculptures were not precious. That they were not art.  That they were learning exercises.

One man was very upset. He said that if he went home without any evidence, his wife wouldn't believe he was at a class. 

The final night of class, instead of the usual models, an older man was going to pose. I was relieved that we were going to do head studies and he wasn't going to be naked. (Hey, I was 27, what do you want.) 

The sculpture class was twelve weeks long and after several weeks Sergio must have thought we were making art. We got to take our sculptures home.

It was traditional that at the end of the final class everyone went out for beer. Somehow or other I ended up being volunteered to take our OLD model to the bar in my car.  So I had his clay head in the backseat and him in the front seat.

Afterward I had to drive the model back to the school. When I stopped the car to let him out, he didn't get out. Instead he grabbed me. What! This old man, that I was being nice to by giving him a ride, grabbed me. I let him know I was not happy in not so nice terms, and booted him out of my car. I drove home, shaking, furious.

The next day that lecherous man's head was sitting on my kitchen table. Now here's the violence part, so take the kids out of the room. I looked at the head of still wet clay. I poked him in the eye. I pulled off his ears and punched him hard in the face. Wham! Pow! Blam! Splat!

The bust was busted.

Here's the take away: everything we make is not precious, sometimes it's learning.  And also it's really fun to punch clay.

The End of the Relationship

I've left a long term relationship. It's over. Our goals didn't match anymore. A long term relationship should have mutual respect, a common purpose, and trust, especially trust. I've left the art gallery that has shown my work since 2001. 

Sunday John and I brought all my paintings home.

In September I wrote a blog post about the people from "Detroit 1-8-7" choosing one of my paintings to use on the show. There were a couple things I didn't mention on the post. Like when I signed the release form I asked the gallery owner if we were being paid. Her startled response was something like, "Oh, umm, oh, well, I guess I'll have to ask them".

Huh?

Well, that bothered me, so I had a conversation about it with Google when I got home. 

Google's response was confirmed a week later when I went to see a show at a gallery in downtown Detroit. I happily told the gallery managers that a tv show was going to use one of my paintings. They told me that movie and tv people had been renting art from them too. RENTING. Renting for 20% of the value of the art for a week. 

It took me several weeks of stewing before going back to the gallery to have a little chat with the gallery owner. I'm a mild mannered Democrat, I don't yell at people, I'm not fond of confrontation. Also I had to decide if I really wanted to leave the gallery. Where would I go? Would I feel rudderless, homeless, lost. 

It turns out that, yes, the gallery owner is making 20% on the art rentals. She asked the tv people if she had to share the money with her artists. They said it was her choice. She's choosing not to. 

I acknowledge here that keeping a gallery open is expensive. 50/50 sharing of sales has always seemed fair to me. She has to make a living too.

And after all, it involved a lot of work for her, she told me she spent two hours on paperwork and packing the selection of art they took (I think it was seven pieces from different artists). I mentioned that my 48" x 48" painting took 30 hours to paint. The painting's value is $3000, 20% of that is $600. So for her 2 hours of packing and paperwork, that's $300 per hour. That's just from my piece. What about the other artists?

She said I get exposure if my work is on the tv show. Hmmm. There isn't a sign over the art saying Lynn did this. There isn't a credit line at the end of the show that says, "Painting in the dining room by Lynn Arbor". Also they may rent art work, place it on the set, but it doesn't necessarily ever show up on screen. The gallery owner still gets paid.

I also found out that no other artist has questioned being paid, or so she said. 

Maybe because I spent 25 years of my life making art for a living, I'm used to getting paid. When I was a graphic designer I did the work, wrote a bill, then someone wrote a check. 

Of course, there was the time that I designed a brochure for a woman who grew orchids. She didn't like the design. Said her son the printer could do a much better, more creative, more professional job. When I got up to leave (taking my design) she said, "You can leave the design." Yeah, right.

It seems that some people think that if you love doing the work you do (especially artists, singers, musicians) that your reward is in the pleasure you get in doing it. You don't really need to get paid. 

If my brain surgeon loves cutting into heads, no one questions that he should be paid. Wait a minute. I don't have a brain surgeon, but you get my point. If someone wants to use your art, you should get paid. It's not brain surgery, but it counts.

The Big Smile Project

Dana Schutz paints people eating their arms or eating their own face. Perhaps last week I was thinking of posing for her when I ate part of my tooth for dinner. It wasn't delicious, sweet or savory. It was just a hard thing in my mouth.

But enough about my body falling apart. Let's talk about teeth.

My mother did portraits, mostly glamour shots of movies stars. Greta Garbo never sat in our kitchen posing, so I'm sure she painted from magazine photos. She also painted all the  family members. 

No one ever smiled. It's not that the family members or movie stars were sad, sullen, or sedate. My mother was afraid to paint teeth. Or anyway, she believed that teeth were really hard.

Well, they are hard when you're trying to eat them, but painting them? Why would teeth be any harder to paint than eyes or noses, or fingers.

So I put teeth to the test. I photographed John and our friends Joy and Keith at breakfast last Sunday. Then I printed out their faces and started painting. 

Joy Powell's great smile.

Here's what I learned. For me, a tooth is a hard form, solid with distinct lights and shadows. Pretty straight forward painting. Lips, however, are trickier, delicate, especially at the corners of the mouth where there are folds of inner skin. The top edge of the upper lip is soft, not a solid color distinction.

Painting smiles was the most fun I've had in ages. When I went to bed, I wanted to get back up and go look at them again.

Today I saw Dr. Gibney, my dentist. I have a new temporary tooth and a camera full of photos. In future posts I'll show my dentist's, dental hygienist's, and receptionist's smiles. Isn't this fun.

Now I want to paint close-ups of everyone I know smiling. Hmmm. This could become a series.

So here's my conclusion. When we think something is hard to do, we should at least try it. (You could apply this to other areas of life besides painting, however, I'm still not going to take up sky diving.) 

Here's a link to Dana Schutz's paintings: http://www.saatchi-gallery.co.uk/artists/artpages/schutz_Face_Eater.htm

Shoulds

I wake up with a head full of shoulds for my day. 

• I should respond to 7 emails.
• I should do 4 loads of laundry. I am out of socks.
• I should plant the 90 tulip bulbs I bought. Why did I do that?
• I should empty the dishwasher.  (John now makes emergency vehicle noises when the dishwasher door is open.)
• I should water the house plants.
• I should walk 2 miles. We actually do that most mornings before breakfast.
• I should divide the hostas and move them to the front garden.
• I should weed the vegetable garden.
• I should write some journal pages. Oprah says you should journal.
• I should learn chi gong. Dr Oz wants me to.
• I should paint...

Actually I have been painting, several afternoons lately, after taking care of a bunch of shoulds that aren't even on this list. 

But, I've been doing should paintings, the "I should be painting" paintings. A should painting is numb, rote, using up paint, a "paint every day and you'll get better," exercise. A listless, mindless, dumping on, smearing, bored, diddling, indifferent kind of painting. It's different than a "want to" painting. 

But then two of the three should paintings look like thoughtful paintings. I wonder why?

In my twenty's all the books and articles about how to become a good writer said, "you should write every day". Make it a habit. I did that. I wrote everyday. I wrote a novel, two partial novels, lots of short stories, newspaper articles, and children's books. Some published. Some not. That should seemed to work.

I have told my artists friends, "if your serious about doing this, you should paint every day." I am so bossy.

Colette's first husband Willy locked her in a room so she would write, then he took credit for her work. Did you note the "first" husband part of that. That makes sense to me. But I think I heard somewhere that she was grateful to him, not for stealing her work, but for forcing her to get into a habit of writing. Are habits and shoulds cousins in the brain.

End of day

I've weeded the round garden, moved strawberries to it's outer circle, walked and done laundry. Not a bad day.

One "shouldn't" that I'm good with… you shouldn't prune an espalier any later than mid-September, as it will cause a growth spurt. So the espaliered apple trees with a few wild branches that look like they should be pruned shouldn't. It will just have to wait until January or Spring. Actually that applies to any pruning in this climate. Isn't it great to have a shouldn't.

Injury update

Yesterday the stitches came out of my forehead. 

But first, flash back a week ago Monday: the crash and gash. Basically I looked and felt fine. The gash was hiding nicely under my bangs. But by Thursday morning when I looked in the mirror my eyelids and the space next to the bridge of my nose was a vibrant shade of Alizarin Crimsom. There was an interesting fine red line circling the bag under my left eye. This was a little brighter, cadmium red deep. By Saturday my right eye also had a red line defining the bag on that side. Each day the colors work their way down to pool under my eyes. Will they keep going and land at my chin?

I'm getting some lovely colors going here. To give you an idea of some of the colors on my face see below.

Left to right from upper left:  
 D102 - Da Vinci Artists' Oil Color, Alizarin Crimson,   
D110 - Da Vinci Artists' Oil Color, Cadmium Red Deep,   
D180 - Da Vinci Artists' Oil Color, Thioindigo Violet,   
D1522 - Da Vinci Artists' Oil Color, Magenta Quinacridone,   
D1351 - Da Vinci Artists' Oil Color, Dioxazine Purple,   
D137 - Da Vinci Artists' Oil Color, Dark Goethite,   
D1371 - Da Vinci Artists' Oil Color, Goethite Genuine,   
D154 - Da Vinci Artists' Oil Color, Mummy,   
D127 - Da Vinci Artists' Oil Color, Cinnabar Green Medium,   
H275 - Holbein Artists' Oil Color, Terre Verte,   
GA1100 - Gamblin Artists' Oil Color, Cadmium Green,   
D133 - Da Vinci Artists' Oil Color, Cobalt Teal,  

Okay, I don't really expect to turn Cobalt teal, but I really like the color.

Mysteries. 

I had a little tube of cover-up make-up. I had it in my hand. It has disappeared without it's contents ever touching my face. Yesterday after I had the stitches out I stopped at Meijers for groceries. I also selected a tiny bottle of concealer. It was the last thing on the check-out. It's not on my receipt and it's no where to be found. Hmmm, do the gods of color want me exposed?

Here's another mystery to me. That spot on my belly, that was just a little red dot last Monday, is now a dioxazine purple area 3 inches around. How come the wound on my forehead is falling down my face, but the wound on my stomach is staying put and just growing.

My doctor asked how the dishwasher was. His wife lost her balance and landed on their open dishwasher.  It got unhinged and they had to buy a new one. Ours is fine. It broke me. I didn't break it. 

The color swatches above are from Cheap Joes on line catalog (with their permission) It's a great place to buy art supplies. Click on any link to get their site or click here: www.cheapjoes.com. I've included the color numbers for the artists among you.

Things NOT to do to Avoid Painting

Or how I didn't feel like painting and broke my head instead.

Some days are like this, gloomy, too quiet. Funky. I spent a few minutes in the studio. Stared at everything and walked out. Went down the basement spent about 5 minutes watching my wonderful new Daniella Woolf DVD, "Encaustic with a Textile Sensibility". I had watched the whole thing a couple days ago, but somehow was too restless to watch more than a couple minutes again. Came back upstairs, looked in the refrigerator. Turned on the living room tv. Turned off the tv. Looked in the refrigerator again. Went back upstairs to the studio. Felt the paint brushes. Left the studio. Poured a cup of coffee. Opened the dish washer. Put a dirty bowl in. Wiped the counter. Grabbed a wood tray to put back in it's place. Fell over the opened dishwasher door.

Ahhh, that last item… That's what you really shouldn't do to avoid painting. The wood tray hit the floor and evidently my head hit the edge of the tray. There was blood, blood flying out of my head. I managed to extract myself from the dishwasher door and went into the bathroom. I looked like a cheesy horror movie…my face totally red with blood. I rinsed my face and went to the kitchen for a clean cloth and pressed it into my head hole. Found my phone. Called John.  

Twenty minutes later he arrived and took me to the hospital for stitches. Four hours, 3 inter-stitches, 8 outer stitches, a cat scan of my head (no internal bleeding), an X-ray  of my right hand (no broken bones), and insurance forms signed later, we headed back home.

I'm fine, a few bruises here and there, and an ugly forehead. By the way, if you're going to try this yourself, it's a good idea to wear bangs.

Reminiscent of Hitchcock films, I'm including a picture, blood looks better in black and white. 

I was renaming myself Jill (of Jack and Jill fame), however Jack was the one who broke his crown. So go ahead, call me Jack.

Work of Art

Did you see "Work of Art, the Next Great Artist" on Bravo last spring? I liked the show, it was fun and I did learn a thing or two. There are fourteen artists at the start. Each week has a different competition and one player is eliminated. The winner at the end gets a show at the Brooklyn Museum. 

So spur of the moment, this week John took me to Chicago for the casting call for the next seasons show. It was fun. At 9:00 on Wednesday morning I got in line. I was number 311, I think a hundred people were behind me in a line going around the building. I was surrounded by some very nice people. Moora from Pennsylvania, Johnny from Milwaukee, Jay from Chicago with his girl friend Megan. Everyone liked the show except for the "shock" episode…is sex and nudity really still shocking?

Johnny, me and Jay. Moora took the picture with my phone

I was up for being the token old person, however judging by the line there would be some competition for that spot. But mostly I think people were in their 20's to mid 30's. Ok, so half my age. 

Three hours of standing… and then, but wait, I can't tell you about the judging process or I could be fined $100,000 or was it $1,000,000.

But, anyway, back to what I can tell, after I was finished at 1:15 John and I had lunch. We checked out  the Contemporary addition at Art Institute of Chicago. We roamed all the gorgeous public gardens, and ate dinner in Millennium Park under an umbrella. It rained but we stayed dry.

We were back at the hotel when my cell phone rang about 6:00. It was someone from "Work of Art" telling me they wanted me for a call-back and I should come back the next day. I was really shocked. I danced around the room on my ever so tired and achey feet saying, "oh, my god, oh, my god."

So Thursday I was back in another line (a short one). The artists came from all over. I met three from Atlanta, one from Wichitaw, one from Omaha, one from Toledo, one from Detroit. There were a couple very interestingly attired young women, performance artists.

As I was sitting there, I was wondering how I would possibly compete, or keep up with these talented artists if I did make it on the show.  I was still tired from the day before. The last woman I met was Sarah. She's pretty, charming, with an education from The School of the Art Institute of Chicago, University of Michigan and Cranbrook Institute of Art. I hope she makes it all the way. Me. I'm back home, very pleased to have had this experience, AND really relieved the I didn't make it.

One other thing, I have the greatest husband. Not only was he happy to drive me to Chicago, he did an awful lot of running to the Fed-Ex store to zerox. First my entry form, then to zerox pages from my "Images" book, then back to the zerox store to get the book that we had left in the machine. I love you, John.

If you're interested there's a casting call at the Brooklyn Museum in New York Saturday the 25th. You don't have to sign up ahead of time, just hop a bus, train, plane or car (like we did), and show up.  Go to

http://www.bravotv.com/casting and print and fill out the 23 page form to take with you.

Now onward. I think I'll take up painting again.